


Must Be Love

by mpatientdreamr



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:50:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mpatientdreamr/pseuds/mpatientdreamr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's never seen anything like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Must Be Love

**Author's Note:**

> Supernatural/Buffy, Dawn/Dean, It's when he eats her burnt pie that he realizes he's in love.

Dean had never been the pickiest eater. He’d been eating his own cooking since he was 7 and diner fare before that. There wasn’t room in his life to be picky.

But this was an abomination. He’d never seen anything like it.

“Summers, what the hell did you do to this pie?” he barked, eyes never leaving it. His grip on his knife shifted slightly into the defensive position. If ever there was a case for pie haunting or vengeance, this was it.

“I don’t know,” she said and his gaze snapped up because her voice sounded suspiciously sodden. And, yeah, shit, there were tears brimming in her eyes. “I followed the recipe.”

His gaze drifted back down to the pie and he bit back a shudder. Charred flakes of crust were stirring with the soft puffs of air from the vent overhead and the filling had caramelized in the worst way.

“It can’t be that bad,” he said, even though his stomach turned at the thought of what he was about to do. “If you followed the recipe.”

He scooped a bite out of the middle where it was least damaged and stuck it in his mouth before she could protest. Then he couldn’t see because his eyes were stinging and oh God, oh God, so bad.

Then she was laughing and her hand was wrapped around the back of his neck as she said, “Spit it out, spit it out, oh God, before you poison yourself or choke to death, spit it out.”

He did, right into the pie plate, then took three hearty swigs of beer. (What? What else was he supposed to wash down his apple pie with? Not that that had been apple pie.) The first was to wash away the last of the nasty, the second to wash away the taste, and the third because, damn it, he needed it.

When he finally looked up at her, her blue eyes twinkling, he realized something.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, eyes widening.

“What?” she said, running her fingers along the hairs at the base of his neck.

He wrapped one hand around the lush curve of her hip, the tips of his fingers brushing the sheath to her Bowie knife which was longer than his hand.

“Nothing,” he said gruffly. “I just realized that I’m in love with you.” She melted into him and he probably would have gotten bonus points for having a chick flick moment if he hadn’t felt the need to add, “But, seriously, we’re going to have to add a rule that says you should never try to cook pastries, ever again.”

Then she was laughing and trying to turn the pie over on his head, only it wouldn’t budge from the pie plate, and he swept her up and out of the dining room before Andrew could come in and see what she’d done to his kitchen. Saving her from pouting was absolutely his idea of romance.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: There is, somewhere in my notes, part of a story wherein Dawn gives Dean a list of rules for living with the Scoobies. So, that’s the list of rules he’s alluding to. Maybe one day, you’ll actually get to read it for yourself.


End file.
